The Scientists Legacy
by T.J.98
Summary: A scouting party from New Manchester goes to Legacy after the storm passes in order to thank their saviors. When they arrive, they learn just how high a price those scientists paid to save them.


It was a good day when we headed out. The city had just survived its first blizzard, and we were prospering. Our hothouses and coal thumpers were up and running, the tents had given way to bunkhouses, and we even had a Care House and an infirmary set up. There were spirited brawls in the fighting arenas and toasts in the public house. Of the fifteen hundred souls who called the city home none perished in the cold, those who fell ill were fast on their way to recovering, and the handful who lost limbs to frostbite would have replacements within a week's time when the factory was set up.

New Manchester had a future. And we all knew who we had to thank for it.

I was placed in charge of the scouting party, with four stout lads to command. We'd learned from the mistake of the last expedition, and used a light sled to travel. It would take at least a day's travel, but the skies were clear and our spirits were high.

"I can't wait to see Legacy", one of my men, Jonas, called out jubilantly. "It's because of them that we survived."

"My daughters are alive thanks to those blessed scientists!", Fishel, another of my scouts, called back.

"We'll thank them when we arrive, but for now focus on the snow", I answered. The ice was still precarious, and I did not want us to fall through like the first scouting party did. Of course our sled was nowhere near as heavy as their snowcat was, but I did not want to take needless risks. I was cautious, suppose I still am.

After the lake we had to cross some hills, but our spirits made the labor easy. Perhaps we were too optimistic.

We stopped halfway up the hill to prepare our lunch. It was not much; canned willow sprout soup, lichen loaves, and a jot of hard liquor to wash it down.

"I still can not believe they gave us so much food!", Fishel commented in between a bite of lichen loaf, "They were so generous." We should have wondered about that generosity.

After we finished eating, we resumed our ascent. It was at this point that we began to notice something was wrong, for no smoke arose above the top of the hill.

"The Generator should be on, should it not?", I inquired.

"Maybe they're doing maintenance", Alby offered. This seemed reasonable. We pushed further up the hill, and then approached the pit where the city would be.

When we saw it, our hearts sank.

The generator was frozen cold, and all the buildings were coated with ice and snow. Scattered around were four or five automations collapsed onto the ground.

We clambored down the cliff face into the city, and examined it. Finally our attention was drawn to five houses, and we entered it. Before we even opened the door I knew in my heart what I would find, and I am sure my four men did as well, but we dared not face utter it.

We searched the first three cabins, and found nothing but overturned furnishings. Then we entered the fourth cabin and there saw forty five corpses frozen together in a huddled mass around a long-extinguished pit fire. No parts of their bodies were missing, and there were cans of uneaten and half-eaten food strewn about, so it is clear they did not starve. They died of the cold because they lacked coal.

They died in our place.

"NNNOOOOOOO!", I let out a scream and fell to the ground, striking it with my fists and crying out. They fed us from their poverty, giving to us despite knowing it would be their doom.

They saved our lives, and now we can never thank them for it.

"Sir", Alby asked, "What should we do?"

I looked up at the bodies. It would not do to leave them like this.

"We must bury them. They deserve at least that much."

So it was that we pulled the bodies out, and dragged them on the sleigh to their city's cemetery. We dug graves for them and laid them to rest, using planks from the collapsed buildings as headstones.

Once that was done, we took three large boards and tied them together. We then affixed them to the front gate of the cemetery plot, and carved onto them an explanation of who these scientist were and how they saved us.

This done, we went about ripping the steam cores from the broken automatons and gathering what spare wood and steel we could.

When we returned to New Manchester it was with heads hung in sorrow. I remember how the city took the news; everyone went into mourning, and the Captain declared that day an annual day of remembrance.

God rest those men who died in our place.


End file.
